Hell Hath No Fury
by The Miffed Writer
Summary: When Hannibal Lecter escapes custody, he doesn't flee the country right away, instead he goes to pay a visit Alana Lecter ne Bloom (aka Alana Graham) and the son she's kept from him.
1. Chapter 1

The Hannibal in the fic is sort of a combination of Mikkelson and Hopkins- in that I feel like Mads captured the elegant beast that is Hannibal, but Hopkins is the force of Nature that is unstoppable and unmovable in the books.

The thing is that I feel like Hannibal Lecter on NBC is incapable of true love- he is a psychopath and a monster, but in the books he defies all description. He loved Mischa, Murasaki and Starling (and I could argue something about Graham, but for the sake of him being Lecter's son in my story, I won't). His love is twisted and deep and all consuming, but it is love nonetheless.

Hope you enjoy it!

Work Text:

Alana looks lovely.

It is the day before his trial commences and she had come to inform him of two things- the first; that she would not be attending. The second, he smelled on her the moment she'd entered room. Behind his cage, his eyes stalked her hungrily, drinking in her pencil skirt and blazer, her creamy shirt with it's simple, tasteful necklace, jacket under one arm.

He doesn't miss the absence of her wedding ring.

"You know, then." She said, the moment she can understand the predatory look on his face.

"How long?!" He demanded, barely keeping control of himself.

Alana looks pale, but resolute, unbowed. He respects her composure.

"How long have you known?" He asks again.

"A month. I found out the day before your arrest." How ironic-the child they'd tried for for 4 years. Hannibal did the math- the boy would have been conceived the night of the Wound Man. His first nutrients would have been flesh. For a moment sounds and scents and lights were muffled as the ground beneath him seemed willing to come closer.

A message. She'd left it on his voicemail when he was in the middle of a session with a patient.

 **"Hannibal, it's Alana. I've got something to tell you tonight."**

She had sounded so happy, he'd been curious. But he hadn't minded.

He'd meant to call her back, but then Miriam Lass had appeared, and things had gone wrong oh so quickly.

"I see." Hannibal took a breath, collecting himself.

"You don't." Alana eyes were bloodshot, but she hadn't lost any weight- she was taking care of herself for the baby's sake, then. That was good.

"I understand your-"

"No, Hannibal, I don't believe that you do. My child will know nothing of you. They will know no father. I'll tell them that he was a police officer, in the army, or that he left. You will never see them, or know their name. You...you won't see me again after this." She'd begun her words steadily, but she'd lost confidence at the sparks in his eyes.

"Why come and tell me, then? Why not send a message through Chilton?" She snorted.

"You were owed a visit for this announcement, in my opinion. Such an announcement would be...rude to pass on through a third party. Besides, I wasn't sure if you would be able to...to smell the baby yet. And, frankly, I wasn't sure my message would make it to you."

"I smell the hormone change, the HCG. If I had been unable?"

"I wouldn't have told you."

He laughed without humor. "I...apologize, for any inconvenience that I've caused you, Alana. Know that it wasn't my intention."

"To be caught? Or to upset my life so horribly?" Hannibal can't answer quick enough. "You fed **people** to me, Hannibal. God only knows just how many- I can't even look at steak anymore without feeling sick to my stomach, and it sure as hell isn't morning sickness!The FBI has torn the house apart, Hannibal! Jack can't even meet my eyes. My colleagues can't stop talking about me, my bank accounts are frozen and almost all of my patients have stopped treatment. My life is ruined because of you, and I had nothing to do with your crimes."

"No, but you married me. That makes you guilty by association." He reminded her. She winced. "I never meant to do any of it. I don't regret anything that I've done, Alana. Know that much- not the murder, not the meat, and certainly not my marriage to you."

"You aren't capable of love, Hannibal."

"Maybe not in your context. But I do care. Why else would I have asked for your hand."

"A pretty wife on your arm, maybe? A character witness?" She sounded bitter, and it made him angry.

"No, there are a million Baltimore debutants that would have served such a purpose. I found and still found you a woman capable, with a career and a truly respectable personality and mindset. I consider you my dearest friend. And I am sorry only for involving you."

Tears streamed down her face now.

"I can't let them know what their father is. Boy or girl. They'll be so afraid, Hannibal, of what they could become."

 **They will be** **great** , he thought, but kept the thought to himself.

"I understand, Alana." **But you will not be able to keep the monster outside forever.**

She took a shuddering breath, whispered a half-hearted good-bye, and then left the room. Hannibal watched her, imprinted the scent of her perfume, her hair, her skin, her hand cream, into his memory palace.

* * *

William Graham is born on February 2nd, to a mother that loves him with all her heart, and an empty space on one side of his birth certificate, and his Grandmother's surname.

Will (he hated and shot down any attempts to call him "Billy" or "Willy") knew nothing but love from his Mama, and didn't care about not having a father. His Mama dated occasionally, but usually they got a look at Will and hit the road, because they were asshats- that's what Aunt Bev said about it anyway (even if Will wasn't supposed to say that word).

It confused him though, why his Mama had a hard time looking at him, or flinched when he made a comment about a show on TV, or how he was interested in the medical shows, and she'd once found him bent over a medical book in the library, tracing the nervous system with wondering eyes.

Will has his Mama's dark hair, but he assumes that his curls must be from his father. His blue eyes are pretty, but when he gets angry, sparks seem visible, like light reflecting off of ice, and the color is a mystery- a throwback, as Aunt Bev puts it. He's small for his age and built slight, but he's fast, and he can both take and throw a punch- as the teachers and bullies at school have learned.

He's smart, but more than that, he's clever.

There's something in Will that makes people uncomfortable- something in his eyes, like something peering out from behind a curtain. He sees too much, too early. He knows why his kindergarten teacher smiles at the principal like he does (because his wife is a whore, and why can't he have some fun for once in his goddam life?) and why the man on the news never smiles (his son died, and he couldn't move on- how could people expect him too?), and that man on the highway who cut his Mama off...

Will knows things about people that he shouldn't.

And that worries Alana more than anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Alana hears it on the news on her way to work.

 **"-citizens are warned that Lecter is considered extremely dangerous. The following counties are warned to remain indoors-"**

Immediately she pulls an illegal turn and goes get Will from school, saying that she completely forgot about his doctor's appointment- vaccines, he won't be in school for a few days unfortunately.

Her son stays quiet until he's in the car.

"What happened? You never forget about the doctor." Alana could only smile weakly.

"Nothing baby, I just thought that you'd like to spend some time with Mama. How would you like to go away for the weekend? Just us?" Alana doesn't say that they might be moving if there's a Hannibal sighting within 50 miles.

Beverly's car is waiting for them at home, and she's sitting on the steps with both a loaded shotgun in her lap and her handgun. She smiles broadly at Will, carefully puts the safety back on the gun and swings him into the air, laughing as he erupts into giggles. Alana trusts Beverly more than anyone else- only Beverly knew the truth about her son's father. She hadn't even told Jack.

"Hi, Aunt Bev."

"Hey Munchkin. I brought you a present. The box on the table." Will smiles and gives her another hug before running inside. Bev waits until the door is slammed shut behind him before the look of a worried friend. "I cashed in my vacation days to keep an eye on you."

"You shouldn't have done that, Beverly."

"They were about to expire anyway. Better to use them for a good reason, like keeping an eye on my godson and best friend. You alright, 'Lana?"

"Fine. Just heard the news an hour ago." Alana admits, pulling her coat tighter around herself and stepping up onto the small lattice porch.

After her husband's...incarceration, Alana had been the sole receiver of Hannibal's money- he hadn't been a millionaire, but he'd had quite a bit from both his Uncle Robert, and later his Aunt, and his own income. She'd put most of it away, but had felt no guilt in selling the vast town house with it's torture chamber. She'd sold off a good bit of his things- things that had no meaning, and the rest went into storage.

She'd bought herself this house with some of the money; at the time she'd been a little more than 5 months pregnant and big as a house. It was perfect for her little family- two bedrooms, a study, a kitchen and a decent sized living room with a large back yard and decent sized front. It was painted yellow, soft yellow, not that horried sun shade that seemed so popular lately. It even had a picket fence.

Will bursts back out of the house a moment later only to wrap himself back around Beverly.

"She got us a puppy, Mom! Aunt Bev got me a puppy."

"A dog, really, Bev?" Alana couldn't even find it within herself to be angry, just annoyed- Will had been begging for a dog for a year now, and Alana had been planning on getting him one anyway.

"Well, the kid needs a friend, and what better than something that grows with him?" Beverly reasons, smiling.

The puppy barks inside.

"What breed is it?" Alana asks.

"Mutt- has some retreiver in him, or that's what the woman at the shelter said. Very friendly, very intelligent, very noisy and they grow up loyal. The sire they weren't sure on. His name," she turns on Will, quirking up her lips, "is Winston. Go play with him, your Mom and I gotta talk."

"Kay." And then her son was gone again.

"I don't know what to do, Bev. He's going to find me."

"You need to get out of here."

"There's no point- you don't know how he is, Beverly, he's escaed and he's come to find Will. He won't stop."

"You go by a new name now," Beverly reminds gently. "He won't risk it- they're tearing the state apart looking for him, Jack told me. If he gets anywhere nearby, they'll find him."

Alana only wishes that she could believe that.

* * *

He steals a car from a man at the motel- a rather undercared for Honda Civic. Rather a down grade from his Mercedes, he supposes, but when one is on the run, you can't be picky.

He rather hopes that Barney doesn't lose his job for this- the man was on his day off, so he supposes not. But then again, Chilton might just be angry enough to do such a thing.

But is it really Barney's fault that the orderly who'd taken over his shift while he was in the hospital was a fool?

Chilton would be investigated no doubt, and that investigation would lead to a number of security issues, several health code violations and quite possibly human rights. Naughty, naughty.

It's not hard to blend in, not once he has some cash on him. All the pictures they have of him for public safety are from either the trial, the beginnings of his incarceration or before he was arrested. In all of them, he looks similar- only in the photos from after admittance to the BSHCI is he in the jumpsuit afforded to inmates. Otherwise he is in his custom three piece suits.

He buys jeans, long sleeves and hiking boots- some hair dye to lighten his hair, lets himself grow stubble.

By the afternoon of the third day, he's walking about downtown Baltimore to the library.

He'd scoured the phone books and public information offices looking for any trace of Alana, or of their child.

Nothing.

No birth certificates under the name Lecter or Bloom.

Any time the name Lecter was brought up in a search engine, his name appeared. It was useless to go that route.

Logging into a library computer, he searched under Bloom instead.

Freddie Lounds had done a supposed 'expose' on the 'Bride of Frankenstein', as the media had dubbed his wife. Hannibal gathered from the documents and reports that he found that, after the FBI cleared her of any suspicion, dear Alana had withdrawn from public practice. She hadn't appeared at the trial, and once allowed access to their accounts hired a solicitor to sell the house and take care of any legal matters.

(The House had been bought and redone in his absence, but it had yet to be bought from the new owner)

There were very few pictures of her, the only two that he seemed to find, surprisingly, was their wedding photo, and one from a charity gala they had attended two years after they'd married. In both of those, she looked radiant, proud and kind.

Yet she'd married the Cannibal.

Alana had dropped off the face of the earth, it seemed.

Hmm.

Hannibal closed his eyes and thought about Alana.

He thought about what he knew of her.

Alana had been primarily raised by her father, a teacher and a gentle, kind man. Her mother had died when she was 9 after a long fight with cancer- Alana had loved her mother dearly, but talking about her, about her death had been painful.

He smiled, and then began to search again.

* * *

Will knows that something is wrong with his Mama and his Aunt Bev.

He hasn't been to school for three days. Aunt Beverly keeps looking out the windows and checking on locks. Mama didn't stop cooking (whenever she was nervous, she baked, but now she was baking and frying and sauteing nonstop, although she looks sicker and sicker by the hour, but not even Aunt Bev can make her stop) unless she ran out of things to cook with. Then she would call in an order to the grocery store.

Will isn't allowed outside.

Winston is a happy dog, and Will adores him (the puppy follows him around, but is too small to make it up the stairs yet, so Will carries him when he goes). He doesn't bite, or nip, not even in play. He's not sure anyone besides Mama or Aunt Bev has ever loved him so much. The dog whines when Will goes to sleep until Will puts him up there as well.

But Will is sure that puppies and their owners need to play outside.

He's already accidentally broken a figurine playing with the dog, and even though his Mama wasn't mad, Will felt bad anyway and put himself in the corner without Winston for 10 minutes.

He waits until Aunt Bev is distracted making another cup of coffee before he and Winston go, careful to catch the door and not slam it.

Winston instantly brightens even further, barking happily and barreling through the flower beds, rolling around. Will joins him, laughing as well.

"Pardon me?" Will sits up, immediately embarrassed. There is a man with graying blonde hair in jeans on the front sidewalk.

"Can I help you, sir?" Will says- he doesn't walk any closer, aware of the dangers that come with talking to strangers. But he's certain he could run to the door or in the least scream loud enough to get the neighbors if the man were to try anything.

Something about him makes Will stand at attention, and put forth his best manners (even though he is nothing but polite to begin with).

"Yes, I'm looking for Rose Street. I believe I took a wrong turn somewhere." His voice is off- the man talks funny, like he's trying not to say something important.

"Oh, um, you're a block off- but if you take a right on Noir you'll be there." Will answers. The man smiles warmly.

"Thank you, I don't believe I know your name?"

"My name is Will Graham."

"Thank you Will Graham. " The man walks away, and Will keeps looking, waiting until he was no longer visible before going back inside, subdued.

Aunt Bev is talking with his Mama, and he slinks up to his room, careful not to attract attention.

He puts himself in the corner again for 15 minutes- he feels sick, he's done something very bad by going outside, but he doesn't know what.

* * *

Clever Alana.

But not clever enough.

She'd taken her mother'd maiden name, worked for a therapy center in the next town over.

Alana Graham.

The town wasn't small, but not large- small enough that people knew one another at least by rumor, or recognize each other by face if not by name. And large enough that an innocuous man inquiring about his old friend Alana who lived in the area could get directions.

The house was nice. Not extravagant or anything, tasteful and vintage. Very Alana. He found his...son, his boy, in the front yard, playing with a young mutt in the flowers. The sight was oddly endearing.

The boy startled him.

Hannibal had had years to think about the child that he has never known, preparing himself for the inevitable first sight of him.

Nothing could have prepared him for it.

He saw his mother in his slender figure- Alana in his dark hair. He had Mischa's curls. His father's eyes.

Will is polite.

That's good.

He seems intelligent, not over trusting but not outright suspicious.

Hannibal can work with that.

* * *

It's only a matter of time, of course, before Jack gets there and discovers everything.

He'd had Alana's contact details, but had never wanted to bother her after their fight about her not testifying; Jack hadn't been able to believe that Hannibal had never harmed Alana, never done anything suspicious. He'd even insinuated that she lie about it- Alana had told him exactly what she thought of that idea and where he could put and said in no uncertain turns to never call on her again.

Now he'd come to check on her.

Of course Will had been the one to answer the door.

Jack is by no means a stupid man, and it had only taken one look at Will, who resembled his father as much as his mother, despite his coloring, to make him realize why he hadn't heard anything from Alana.

"You didn't think to tell me that you were pregnant by-"

"My husband, Jack." Alana interrupted. She was by no means a weak woman and stood strong amidst Jack's raging storm. "For all that he is, he is Will's father and at the time my husband. There was no reason to inform you." Jack turned to glare at Bev, wound up to fight with her on it. "No- this wasn't your business Jack! Bev had no right to tell you anything."

"And the boy? Anything-"

"Nothing about this is your business Jack. Tell me what you came for and leave."

"I came to ask if you've seen anything suspicious. The last sighting of Lecter had him on the highway in this direction. He ditched the car and then he disappeared again. I'm hoping we'll get another for sure tip, but I'm not holding my breath." The Ripper case had taken its toll on the man, Alana realizes- that and his wife's cancer. She'd sent a bouquet, a tasteful one, and received a thank you note from Bella, but that was all.

"No." Beverly responds. "I've been here since the news broke- nothing odd. No suspicious people, no nothing." Jack sighs at the sight of the shotgun.

"Do you feel safe here Alana?"

"As safe as I can with Hannibal on the loose, Jack."

Jack promises to have police cars make rounds and keep an eye on her.

Alana thanks him.

* * *

That night, lying in bed, Will wonders about his father for the first time in a very long time.

His mother never spoke about him- she said that he had died before he was born. That he was a good husband and would have loved Will very much, but hadn't even known that Will was going to be born when he died in an accident.

Will didn't think that was entirely true.

If his father was dead, or had been killed in an accident, Will is positive that there would be pictures of him somewhere. Or that his Mama would talk about him, but Will doesn't even know his name.

Some of the kids at school call him a bastard.

He doesn't think that he is.

Will rolls over and curls around Winston, watching the light that the passing cars leave on his ceiling. He traces their shapes until he finally drops off to sleep.

* * *

He dreams that night of a black stag with feathers approaching- it is frightening and awe inspiring and Will bows before it. The stag watches him with burning eyes. The forest is mist around them, the smell of blood and decay.

The stag touches his nose to Will's forehead, and Will begins to scream- his skin is burning! Burning and ripping. He moans and with a cry feathers begin to grow from his arms, his legs, and it hurts to pull them. His bones twist, and Will cries.

"Don't fight it," the stag whispers in a voice terrible and soul freezing. "It will hurt more if you do."

"Why does it hurt at all?" Will screams. His bones are reshaping themselves.

"Because all evolvements must." The stag whispers. Will is on all fours and looks down to see hooves and feathers. The stag breaths warm air in his face. "My son."

Will wakes up screaming. He's not sure if his sheets are wet because he's been sweating or because he's wet himself again.

Winston whimpers and licks his hand.

Will touches his skin to make sure it is skin.

He rolls up his sheets and blankets and goes to get his Mama, scrubbing the tears from his face.

Even scared little boys have their pride after all.


End file.
